Date: Thu, 22 Mar 2007 05:38:07 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown
Subject: The Slave Revolt, Part Eleven
THE SLAVE REVOLT
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part Eleven
Rob and I were alone now, and the room was silent. I
could feel his cum trickling out of my ass and down my
thighs, and I began to move, as best I could, and to
call out through the gag for him to let me go. Rob
stood there for a long time, looking very uneasy,
before he came over and began to undo the straps
holding the gag into my mouth. Finally I was free to
speak, and I almost shouted "Rob, what the fuck is
going on? Why doesn't your father know I saved you?
Why does he think I'm one of the rebels, Why...."
"Shut up, Steve! I can't have you speaking like
this."
"Shut up? Why should I shut up? You owe your life to
me, and yet I've been treated vilely, almost
gelded...."
"Steve, I said shut up! I can't have talk like that
around the place. Look, you're OK, you haven't been
gelded....."
"No, but I've been whipped, beaten, made to work as a
dray.... And your father even branded me again - have
you any idea how much that hurts?"
"Oh come on, Steve! It's not as bad as all that! You
used to work as a dray before, sometimes. You never
complained about it then - I remember dad saying that
you quite liked the change, as it was a chance to do
some real work...."
This was just ridiculous! I was tied down on the
horse, arguing the toss with this kid whose life I'd
saved, and who didn't seem to think there was a
problem. So I tried to calm down as best I could -
my temper was rising, and I knew that if I lost it I'd
be totally incoherent. So I took a deep breath, and
deliberately toned down my voice and spoke more
quietly. "Look, Rob, there's been some terrible
mistake. I wasn't a rebel - you know that! I
certainly never joined them. In fact, as you well
know, if it hadn't been for me getting you out of the
house, and looking after you all that time as we fled
from the rebels, you'd be as dead as most of your
father's guards and overseers were. So I don't
understand why your father thinks I was a rebel....
And why he doesn't seem a bit grateful to me for
saving you.... In fact, he doesn't even seem to
realise that I did save you!"
"Steve, all will be explained in due course... Things
are a bit complicated...."
I lost it then, and couldn't help almost screaming at
him "A bit complicated? A bit fucking complicated?
I'll say! I've been almost flayed alive by your
father, branded, worked almost to death.... And you
say 'it's a bit complicated' - what the fuck's going
on?"
"Steve, calm it, will you? The guard will hear...."
"NO I will not! You owe me, Rob, owe me big time!
For fuck's sake, tell me what's going on...."
I was shouting so loudly now that the guard must have
heard, even through the thick door, as he came in and
said to Rob "Is this boy still causing problems, sir?
He's nothing but trouble - always fighting with the
other drays, and not acting like a proper slave at
all. I think the boss had decided to have him gelded
in order to calm him down."
"Well, that's called off, at least for the time
being."
"At least for the time being?", I screamed at Rob.
"What the fuck do you mean?, 'at least for the time
being'?"
The guard took his cane off his belt and slashed it
down twice across my butt, as I lay there helpless.
"Shut the fuck up, boy!", he snarled. "That's no way
for a slave to speak to a free man! I know you're
only a dray, but surely even slave beasts like you are
taught the proper respectful way of speaking to free
men...."
"Rob, tell him to leave me alone....", I asked, at
least not shouting now and trying to sound calm. "And
get me off this horse...."
"Can I borrow your cane, please?", I heard Rob ask the
guard, - I was so astonished that I thought I must
have misheard him. Then Rob came and stood by my head
and ran his fingers almost sensuously through my hair.
"Now, Steve, we can't have you behaving like this,
can we? As the guard said, you surely know the
respectful way of speaking to free men. And if you
don't obey the rules, you know what happens...."
"Rob, for fuck's sake, be real! Let me off this
thing, let's talk about what happened, let's....."
"I did warn you, Steve", Rob said calmly, and then
proceeded to slash the cane across my shoulders three
times. It was one of those thin canes that really,
really stings, and I wouldn't have been surprised if
he hadn't drawn blood.
"Rob!", I protested, and all I got for it was to have
Rob move down a bit, and proceed to slash the cane
viciously across my butt - again and again and again!
I counted at least eight strokes before they all
became a single blur of throbbing pain in which
individual strokes were indistinguishable.
Finally he stopped, and I was too winded to say
anything - all I could do was lie there and take big
rasping breaths as I fought to get my body under
control.
"Now, Steve, let that be a lesson to you!", he said,
standing by my head now again and ruffling his fingers
through my hair, in a gesture of ownership, almost.
"My father has given me to you, Steve, but he's
worried that you're wild and unruly. I need to show
him that I can control you, that I can train you to e
a properly respectful, hardworking slave. And if you
continue to disobey the rules, rules which you know
well, then I will have to continue to beat you. It's
for your own good, Steve - you know that really:
unless you can be seen to be a good slave, my father
will take your ownership back and have you gelded. "
He paused for breath and went on "Look at it from his
point of view, Steve - the estate was wrecked, the
house was almost burned down and was anyway looted, we
lots a lot of valuable slaves.... And he's naturally
concerned that any future signs of sedition should be
stamped on firmly, before they grow into another
rebellion. And the way to do that is to ensure that
all the slaves know their proper place, that they all
obey, totally and completely, all the orders...."
"Rob, you have to be joking! After all we've been
through...."
The cane came down four more times across my
shoulders, and as I screamed with each blow I was
unable to pursue the argument!
"I told you, Steve", Rob said quietly. "Now, we can
carry on like this indefinitely. I will have to carry
on beating you until you speak properly to your new
owner. I will keep you there for days, if necessary,
and beat obedience into you if I need to. But I know
you're a sensible kind of guy, Steve, and you
understand that I'm in control now, totally in control
- you stay on the horse until I choose to release
you. So are you going to be respectful, or not?"
I lay there, my back and butt on fire from the caning,
and every fibre in me wanted to scream out that he
should fuck off, that he owed me big time, and that he
should cut this crap and start treating me properly.
But what was the point? Look, I'm no a coward or
anything, but I don't subscribe to the view that when
the situation is hopeless you should make a pointless
gesture - I'd never have gone on "The Charge Of The
Light Brigade", for example. No, I believe in
husbanding my resources, and waiting for the
opportunity to take the enemy when the odds are more
favourable. This was one o those times, I reckoned -
there was no way I could break free of the horse, and
I could be there for ever, unless I did something.
So, quietly and calmly, I said "Sir, yes, sir."
"Good boy, Steve!", Rob responded, and I cringed
inwardly as he spoke - I mean, you get used to guards
and people like that calling you "boy" because you're
a slave, but it was Rob doing it: Rob who was
himself only a boy. It was so fucking humiliating -
to be fucked by a kid, and now called "boy" by him.
"Right then, Steve - as you've calmed down, I think we
can let you out of the horse." I cheered up as Rob
said this, but he went on "Guard, will you keep your
prod ready in case of trouble? And as you free one
arm, attach it to the collar before you do the
other...."
All I could do was lie there as the guard bent down
and freed my wrist, then, before I could even stretch
it to relieve some of the aches and cramps, he pulled
it roughly behind my neck and snapped the "D" ring on
it to that on my collar, before proceeding to do the
same to my other arm. At last my ankles were free,
though, and I was able to stand upright. Rob and the
guard both looked at me as my body was totally exposed
to them as I stood there, and the guard gave a low
whistle. "He certainly is a fantastic slave, sir, if
I may say so. But he looks vicious to me - all those
whip scars and cane marks, and you can tell he's a
fighter - look at all the bruising; and someone's
broken his nose.... I'd be very careful if I were
you, sir - once a slave goes 'rogue', as this one
might have done, it's almost impossible to bring them
back under proper control".
"Thanks for the advice", Rob told him. "And I am
planning to take a few precautions. But they teach us
in school that no one is wholly bad, that with care
and love, even the most hardened can be redeemed. And
I'm going to do it: as you say, he's a magnificent
piece of slave flesh, and it would be a pity to waste
it."
"It's good to hear you say that, sir. Our pastor is
always telling us that good things happen through the
love of the Lord Jesus. Would you like me to pray for
you, sir?"
"Well I suppose you could pray for the slave - I'm not
in need of any help, but he certainly seems every bit
of support he can get."
"Oh no, sir: the good Lord only helps men. Although
he created animals, and slaves, they have no souls, so
he can't influence them."
I stood there in incredulity listening to all this
crap. Why on earth did Rob put up with it? Still, as
least I could see why a supposed Christian like the
guard was able to beat slaves, and, presumably, kill
them and fuck them if he wanted to: I didn't have a
soul, so I didn't count in his scheme of things.
"I'm going to take him off for a little training now",
Rob told the guard. "He's harmless enough cuffed like
that - any sign of trouble and I can knee him in the
groin, or punch his belly - he can't resist."
"Do be careful, sir. These slaves can be vicious -
and a brute like that can do a lot of damage, even
secured as he is: watch out for those elbows - if he
attacks you with those, he can still damage you. And
he can still kick.... Perhaps you'd better go off and
check out a slave prod from the armoury, sir..... Or
perhaps I should accompany you...."
"There's no need of that - but a slave prod sounds a
good idea. Can you lend me yours, and go and get a
new one yourself as I'm in a bit of a hurry?"
The guard handed his prod over to Rob - who snapped it
open with practised ease, checked the charge dial, and
closed it. I wondered when, or why, he'd learned to
use one of these vile things that caused such terrible
agony to a slave.
"Thanks." He told the guard. "I think we're finished
here - at least for the time being."
"Follow me!", Rob ordered, and still not
understanding what the fuck was happening, I had no
option but to comply. It was odd to be going through
the "free" part of the house again - my toes wanted
to curl into the luxurious pile of the carpets, but
Rob bounded ahead and up the grand staircase and along
the bedroom corridor to his suite. We went inside,
and he shut the door.
"Now, Steve, I can undo the fastenings and you can put
your arms down.... You're not gong to do anything
stupid, are you? I do have the guard's prod....." He
smiled faintly as he said this, but I couldn't tell
whether it was an evil smile, or a faintly sardonic
one.
"Rob, what the fuck is going on?", I spluttered, doing
my best to keep my anger and indignation under
control.
He looked at me, almost sternly. "Look, Steve, you've
got to learn! I'm your owner now, and you've just got
to be respectful and behave properly...."
"The fuck I will, you young pup! You're only here
because of me, you'd be dead by now...."
"Listen, Steve!", there was something in his tone,
some note of pleading, rather than of warning, that
caused me to stop shouting. "Steve, my dad thinks
you're a rebel, OK? And whilst he thinks that, your
balls, if not your life, is at risk, OK? Don't forget
that he was about to geld you, and he could still call
the National Guard and have you taken off and
crucified - it's a lot easier now to execute slaves,
as the whole country's so jittery after the revolt,
and they're determined it's not going to happen again.
He'd only have to swear to the local judge that he
had concerns about your rebellious nature, and that
would be it. So you've got to behave, Steve, you've
got to be properly subservient, to be respectful, to
act like a proper slave - to convince my dad that
you're 'safe' again. And he'll expect me to 'train'
you - I bet even now he's grilling that guard to see
what happened when he went off to call New York - your
outburst won't have done you any good, Steve - but at
least by taking the cane to you he'll know that I'm
serious about the training!"
"Yes - about that fucking cane.... And that prod....."
"You don't listen, do you, Steve? You're so intent on
pursuing your own agenda that you don't listen
properly to what anyone else says. I've told you that
I've got to be seen to 'train' you - and if it means
that I have to cane you again, or even prod you, to
make it look realistic, then I won't hesitate to do
so. It's in your own interests, Steve...."
"Will you shut the fuck up about what's in my best
interests? I'm a man, Rob, a lot older than you, and
I've seen a lot more of the world. I know what's
right for me..."
"There you go again!" As Rob said this, he slid the
prod out of its sheath. "You don't listen, do you?
Now, do you want a taste of this? I will, you
know...."
I didn't know whether to believe him or not - I
thought he was bluffing, and that he wouldn't really
prod me. But with my hands cuffed behind my neck and
standing there totally naked, I was vulnerable, very
vulnerable. I hesitated for a moment, then stood
there, looking at him.
"Kneel down!", he told me, and I hesitated - I mean,
kneeling, in front of a seventeen year old - how
humiliating is that?
"Steve, I ordered you to kneel down! You've got to
obey me - if dad saw that hesitation, he'd order you
whipped as it's a sign that you don't accept your
status as a slave. Now, just do it, will you - I need
to undo the fastenings to free your arms, and it's
much easier to do that when you're kneeling! That's
all - I want to free you, and yet you won't even do a
simple thing like kneeling, to make it easier: those
fastenings are fucking fiddley, and you're a tall
guy...."
I wasn't sure if I trusted him, but I did want my
hands free. So I knelt there as he worked at my
collar, and finally undid the fastenings. I felt his
fingers on my shoulders, though, and winced slightly
as they probed at the sores where my collar chafed and
rubbed.
"Fuck me, Steve! This collar's cut right into your
skin...."
"They all do. Every slave on this place with one of
these collars has sores like that. It's the norm."
"You can't be serious!"
"Why the fuck would I lie about something like that?
Anyway, think about it: I reckon it's deliberate - you
feel the weight of the collar all the time, but then
it hurts you, too, and reminds you that you're a
slave."
"Steve, I really do think you ought to try to speak
properly - just put a 'sir' on the end of everything,
will you? It's in your own interest, you know!"
"Sir, every slave on the place, sir, has painful sores
where his fucking collar rubs, sir, because the
owners, sir, can't be bothered to buy proper collars,
sir, as they don't care if the slaves suffer, sir, as
we're only animals, sir! Or they do it deliberately,
sir, as they think, sir, that slaves need reminding,
sir, through pain, sir, that they are under their
owner's total control, sir!"
My voice was dripping with sarcasm, and I got to my
feet now, and stood there in front of him, taller,
stronger, and perfectly capable of beating him to a
pulp before any guards could get there. He saw the
angry look on my face and said "Steve, I know things
are not perfect...."
"Not fucking perfect? Do you have any idea how much
this collar actually hurts, and these cuffs?" I
showed him the scars and weeping sores under my
manacles, too.
"Steve, I know things are tough at the moment - but
you've got to think about what dad and the other
owners went through.... And all the experienced guards
and overseers were killed, and the new guys drafted in
just don't have the experience, and, frankly, they're
not all that bright.... But we can get something done
about the collars.... "
"And whilst you're at it, Rob, clear up all this
'misunderstanding' with your father! I want him to
trust me again...."
Rob looked suddenly defeated and muttered "I'll think
about it, Steve...."
"NO, Rob! What the fuck's wrong here? Why not just
tell him?"
"Hey, Steve, wouldn't you like a bath, a proper bath,
to get properly clean?"
"Rob, don't change the subject like that! I might be
a slave, but I'm not a fucking idiot!"
"Look, Steve, things are kind of complicated. You
need to trust me.... It will all be OK in the end.
Just do as I say, and be properly loyal and
respectful...."
I'd had enough! I grabbed his arm, and pushed my face
close to his. "Will you tell me what the fuck is
going on? "
Rob looked really miserable - yes ,that was it:
miserable, rather than scared of me. "Steve, I said
I'd make things right soon... Just hang in there, and
behave - after all, you were a loyal slave once, dad
always said you were the best personal trainer he'd
ever had, so you cold do it again...."
"Tell me the truth now, Rob! Or else I'm going to
beat the shit out of you....."
"Steve, you're hurting me.... Let go...."
"Not as much as I will hurt you, Rob! Now, tell me
the truth, or I'll see if I can't persuade you to,
with my fists....."
Rob gave a little sigh, and I thought I'd won. I
hadn't really intended to hit him of course - I don't
beat up kids - but sometimes you need the threat of a
bit of violence to get the right result, don't you?
I loosened my grip on him, and he stood there, then
reached into his pocket and pulled out something that
looked a bit like a pager.
"Now, Steve, I'm sorry about this, but see this?
Perhaps you don't know - this is a personal alarm -
most free guys carry one now, after the revolt. If I
press it, the guards will be in here quicker than you
imagine, and then there'll be no saving you, Steve: a
slave who's hurt an owner will be crucified."
"Rob....." I was lost for words. Surely he couldn't
mean it?
"Don't say one more word, Steve! Just trust me, OK?
Now, go and have a good long, hot bath and soak some
of that grime out of you, then afterwards, we'll go
and see what can be done about that collar.... And
please, if we see my father ,or any of the guards, act
like a respectful slave, OK?"
I was amazed. But was it worth me risking it? There
was clearly something going on here, something I
didn't understand. I didn't think he's press that
alarm, or even prod me, but was it worth the risk?
"Rob...."
"Shut the fuck up, Steve! You don't know what it cost
me to come down and rescue you today. So cool it, OK?
Can't you just do as I ask? "
There was something about his manner that was at once
sincere, and yet showed that he was deeply troubled.
I hesitated for a few instants, and considered my
options. But what choice did I have ,really? Rob was
really the only game in town, and I suppose I had to
trust him. So I nodded, faintly, and with as much
dignity as I could, given the way my whole body was
aching and painful, I walked into the bathroom.
God it was good to have a bath! A real bath, with
warm water, and some of Rob's gel stuff to make
bubbles and give it a heady tangy scent of pine. I
lay there and luxuriated, adding more hot water from
time to time, until my skin was all crinkled. I
stroked my dick as I lay there as I was so relaxed ad
it used to amuse me to see it sticking up out of the
water, through the bubbles. I began to jerk off,
slowly, soaping my dick to add sensation. My eyes
closed as I worked away, and I was getting close to
shooting when I heard Rob say "Some things haven't
changed then, Steve...."
My eyes snapped open and I saw Rob standing there
looking down at me. I was so fucking embarrassed -
no, I was ashamed, I suppose, at being caught jerking
off n the bath, as if I was a kid.
"Get the fuck out, Rob...."
"Oh come on, Steve: it's not as if I haven't seen
that dick of yours erect, is it? And I've seen you
jerking off, too, haven't I? I can remember a night
when I was covered in cum...."
"Rob, there's some things a guy likes to do in
private, if he can...."
Rob grinned, and turned and left. I started to stroke
my dick again, but somehow the moment had passed and
there was no real enthusiasm for it, so I stopped, and
hauled myself out of the water. I felt so much
better when I dried myself - I was sore and painful
all over, of course, but it was good to have my ass
clean at least. I poked around in the cabinets and
found a razor, and had a good close shave - as a dray,
they'd run clippers over us once a week, and although
I suppose it looks "manly" to have stubble all the
time, I actually prefer to be clean shaven. Finally, I
wrapped a towel around me and walked back into the
bedroom.
Rob was sitting at his PC, and he swivelled around to
look at me.
"Hey, Steve, what's this? Are you getting all
modest?" He was smiling as he gestured at the towel
around me. I grinned too - after all, I'd been naked
for so long now that it did seem a bit silly.
"I guess it was a reflex!, Rob. When I was in the
marines and we'd been on a hard exercise, and we came
back and got showered and really relaxed, we just
naturally wrapped towels around us."
"It's OK by me, Steve, but, look, I told you you've
got to act like a real slave, didn't I? Well, suppose
my dad came in now, and saw you like that - he'd think
you were getting 'uppity' and making like a free man -
a slave in his owner's bedroom is usually naked, you
know."
I shrugged, and let the towel fall to the floor.
There was something vaguely unsettling and odd about
revealing myself to him like that - it must be old
habits, I thought. But my body was betraying me -
having to strip like that was giving me an erection.
Rob smiled again. "That's one thing that hasn't
changed, then, Steve - that dick of yours, always
ready for action...."
He got up from the PC and came up to me and stood
there; then, as if he was overcoming some terrible
inhibition, he suddenly reached out and put one arm
around me, and pulled his body close to mine. He
reached down with his other hand and grabbed my dick,
and stroked it, gently. I couldn't help it - my arms
went around him and I held him, as I had for so many
nights when we were sleeping rough. A little sob
broke out from him.
"Hey, Rob, are you OK, what's the matter?"
"Oh Steve... It's all the shit in my life! And when I
saw you, I thought of how you looked after me, and of
how good your body felt...."
"All the shit in your life?" I must have sounded
totally incredulous. "You have no idea what 'shit'
is! How do you think I feel...."
"Steve, stop it, please. I'll do my best to make it
up to you, honest I will, but for now..."
"For now, what, Rob? What the fuck's going on?"
He was almost sobbing now as he clung to me. "Please,
Steve, let it rest, at least for now, will you,
please?"
I felt so sorry for him that I just stood there, and
ran my hand down his back in a gesture of comfort -
through his shirt I could feel that he was a lot more
muscular than he had been when we were on the run.
He seemed to get himself under control, and let go of
my dick and kind of straightened himself up, and we
both stood there.
"Come on, Steve: Let's get something done about that
collar, and those cuffs.... Here, put this on - if
you're going to be my personal slave I don't want you
going around the place naked: I want all the other
guys to know that your body is reserved for me."
"It" was a slave tunic, of the kind that the cleaners
and waiters and other house slaves - men and women
both - wore. I expect you know the type of thing:
one piece, sleeveless, made of white cotton. I pulled
it over my head and stood there, and felt really
embarrassed: it was really too small for me! I
pointed this out to Rob, but he just shrugged: "House
slaves aren't usually as tall and as well proportioned
as you, Steve!"
"But I can't wear this - look, when I'm standing here,
it barely comes down to cover my dick! And when I
move - well, I'm all exposed...."
Rob just laughed. "You really are funny sometimes,
Steve! You've spent months working totally naked,
completely exposed to anyone who cared to take a look.
And now you're worried that someone might see a flash
of your dick because your tunic is too short!"
"It's different...."
"Well I'll think about buying you a larger size, ut
that's all there is for now. And I don't want you
going around naked - if you're clothed, it will make
people think you're more 'civilised' - and that's
important in your rehabilitation."
I wondered why he said "think about buying" me a
bigger size, rather than just saying he would. But
perhaps I was getting too sensitive. "Couldn't I
have some slave shorts, and a T, as I used to wear?"
"No, Steve. Now leave it, will you? I want you to
look like a house slave, and that's the end of it.
And what happened to the 'sir'? It really is
important - you were always properly respectful to my
father, even when you were training him and making him
really sweat, and making him push himself. Why is it
so hard to do it to me?"
"Because you're a kid...."
Rob glared at me. "I was a kid, Steve. But the
revolt changed me. I'm a man, Steve. A proper man.
And don't you ever forget it. I may not be as old as
you, or as big and strong.... But don't ever forget
that I'm a man, and I do all the things a man does.
So you'd better learn to behave properly around me, to
be respectful...."
He stopped, and a small smile broke out on his face.
"...except here in the bedroom, in private.... I
don't remember you ever being respectful when we were
close together at night."
With that, he opened the bedroom door and went out,
and I followed him.
End Of Part Eleven